


Adrift

by Thistlerose



Series: On the Blind Side of the Heart [4]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, POV First Person, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero wakes up in the hospital, after failing to kill Marie Maia.  While recovering, he wonders who he is and what he's going to do with his life, now that the world no longer needs him as an assassin.  Written in 2002.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adrift

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the same continuity as [Prelude](http://archiveofourown.org/works/755120), but can be read independently.

“It's snowing.” Those are the first words I hear when I open my eyes. I don't know the woman bending over me. She smiles. “You'd hardly believe a battle was fought here less than forty-eight hours ago,” she continues, touching things on the side of my bed. Why am I in a bed? Who is this person? “When you're feeling better you can go out and see it. Perhaps in the morning.”

I try to move, but I can't. What's wrong with my body? Why am I so weak? Why can't I remember how I got here?

There's something familiar about this place, the sterile lighting, the smell. The word _hospital_ flickers through my mind.

Am I in a hospital? Why? Where?

It's too confusing. I close my eyes again. 

_The girl_ , I think, and come awake again. _There was a girl._

She had a dog...

No, not that girl. A different girl. I killed the girl with the dog, and then I killed another little girl...

Did I?

This _is_ a hospital. I'm lying in a hospital bed. There are tubes coming out of me. I can't move.

I remember a little girl. I remember holding a gun. What happened after that?

Marie Maia! I killed Marie Maia. I shot her. I killed her like I killed that other little girl, so long ago. I never knew that girl's name, only her puppy's. Mary. Marie Maia. The names are so similar. Marie Maia Barton Khushrenada, the last person I ever killed. I'll remember the name. I'll remember, I won't forget. What are you doing? says the woman from before. Stop trying to move, you'll hurt yourself. I killed her! Do you know who I am? Tell me! I was wrong, history managed to repeat itself. No, don't 

A cool hand touches my brow. I don't want to open my eyes again.

“Heero.”

I don't want to open my eyes, but it's Relena's voice, so I have to, to see if it's really her.

It's her. 

I don't deserve this, but there she is, sitting in a chair beside my bed. Her hair is loose and tumbling all over her shoulders. I like it better this way, than how she had it when...

“I killed Marie Maia,” I tell her thinking that maybe this time she'll realize just how cheap my life really is, and go away.

“You didn't.” Cool fingertips on my cheek. “Dekim Barton shot Marie Maia,” she says. “The gun you shot her with didn't have any bullets in it. She's in stable condition right now, and the doctors think she'll pull through. You saved all of us. I always believed you would.”

Something soft and a little moist brushes my forehead. Her lips, I realize, a second after the sensation is gone.

Whispers, “I always believed in you. I still do. Now, you're in a hospital. You're quite close to the hotel we're all staying at while we try to get things back in order. The Brussels Presidential Residence was destroyed...as you know.” She sighs, sounds tired. “You're exhausted right now. You're dehydrated, and you have...a concussion, multiple lacerations and contusions, all minor. You have an IV in you. You were delirious a little while ago, so they gave you a mild sedative. That's why you're probably feeling a little woozy. They'll take you off the IV soon, though, now that you're getting stronger. You'll be just fine.”

Thank you, I want to say, but I can't make the words. I have not felt this weak in a long time.

“It snowed last night,” she goes on brightly, but her voice sounds odd. Stuffy, almost. “It's beautiful. There are children outside, playing in the snow. You'd never believe a battle was fought here, except...” She trails off for a moment. “Except people are dead. But good things are happening already! Right away after Dekim Barton died his soldiers threw down their weapons and began burning their uniforms. Charles Noventa--Sylvia Noventa's uncle--is on his way to L3-X18999, but he should have no trouble with any dissidents, Sally Po says. She stayed there after freeing the hostages Barton had taken, but she'll be heading back to Earth as soon as Representative Noventa arrives.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Only two days. It is morning on December thirty-first. It's New Year's. One year ago we were on the brink of real peace, and now I think we're finally there. Because the people understand now that peace is something they have to create for themselves. You've shown that to them.”

I shake my head. “You've shown that to them, Relena. I only struck the last blow.”

“No,” she insists. “You did so much more than that...”

We look at each other.

It's morning, she says, but it feels light night. Shadows frame my vision. Shades. This is New Year's. It's the end of the old year, but it is not yet the new one. An era has just ended, but the new one has not yet begun. We're between times right now, in a little bubble, a pocket of time, something extra, something without a name. If I want to I can touch her hair right now, find out how soft it really is. Maybe if I do, I'll become something new as well. In this little moment I'm not afraid. I want to. I try.

I can't. I'm too weak.

“Heero,” she says, leaning over me. Doesn't see. Doesn't understand. Relena, help me. “Heero, Duo and Quatre came with me. They want to see that you're all right. Can I bring them in? We'll only stay for a few minutes more, I know you're tired. Is it okay?” I nod, but it's not okay. I don't want to see them. They're all right; I'm not. I don't want to see them. I want that moment back, I want to bury myself in that pocket of time and believe that if I just try harder, I can change. I can be all right, too.

But the moment's gone.

Duo is too boisterous. His chatter makes my head hurt. Still, he brought Danish, “Because hospital food sucks royally, and I should know, since I've been in quite a few in my day,” he declares. “Was gonna bring champagne, but Q vetoed that. Probably be a little rough on your system right now.”

Quatre is quiet. He seems preoccupied.

Trowa and Wufei did not come. I'm glad, although I don't say so when Quatre apologizes and makes excuses. I couldn't have dealt with all of them; these three are enough.

“We're going to destroy the Gundams,” Duo informs me. “For real this time. And this time it won't be all symbolic and elaborate like sending them into the sun. We're just going to blow them up like we normally do. Maybe this time mine will actually explode.” He sounds wistful; I have no idea what he's talking about. “Anyway, we haven't really talked it over with the other two, but we think they'll understand. Wufei seems almost...human nowadays. Kinda subdued, though. Trowa was actually smiling the other day. It was the weirdest thing. What do you think, Heero? About the Gundams, I mean.”

“That's fine,” I say.

“This time everything will go right,” Quatre says quietly, but in a fervent voice. “The peace will hold this time. Won't it, Heero?”

I don't like the way they look to me, as though for approval or for answers. I'm not their leader. Wing Zero is already nothing but scrap metal; I have no say in this, or in anything that happens hereafter. My mission is over.

So I say to Relena, “Will the peace hold?”

She has been standing off to the side, looking lost in thought. She starts when I address her. “Hmm? Oh, yes, I think--” She shakes her head, collects herself. With greater conviction: “Yes, I think that this time it will hold.”

“Well, I don't think we can ever be certain about that,” Duo says as he rips off a strip of Danish and pops it into his mouth. “I mean, none of us can see the future. Who knows what'll happen a hundred years from now. Or even fifty years, or ten. Still, I can't think of any potential troublemakers. I mean, Septem ordered the original Heero Yuy's assassination, least that's what I've been told, and he's dead. I mean Septem. Well, both of them, actually. Anyway, that's what started the Colonists revolting. Barton was in charge of Operation Meteor, and he's dead. Quinze is dead. Treize Khushrenada bit the dust last year. That guy who took over the Chinese government--Bunto, right?--he's out. General O'Neill murdered King Peacecraft and Queen Katrina, and Zechs wasted him. Zechs is still around, but he's been going on about being a dead man. I feel like all the instigators are dead. All that's left is the soldiers, and we're the ones who actually DO the fighting, so we're the ones who can say when it's been enough. Am I right?”

I don't know. I don't want to answer. Quatre begins to say something, but I realize that I don't want to listen, so I close my eyes, will myself back to sleep.

* * * *

They come to see me in shifts. Duo stays, after I fall asleep. I don't want to talk to him, though, so I keep my eyes closed when he drops by to check on me, after going for coffee or whatever. Relena comes to see me after lunch. She brings some soup, and books, which I appreciate. We don't talk much. Quatre drops by in the evening, and he brings Trowa. Duo is right; Trowa's looking good. He seems more confident and relaxed. He's optimistic about the peace. But then, he knows how to be something besides a soldier, now.

After they're gone I push myself up into a sitting position. The IV's out and I've been eating and drinking, so I have a little more strength, but it still takes effort. I have to grip the bed curtains tightly in order to get to the window.

It's worth the effort, though. The snow stopped falling some time this morning, I guess, but it's still clumped thickly on the ground. From the window I can see up the street all the way to the hotel, where my friends are gathered.

My friends?

I lean against the window, pressing my forehead to the thick glass. I guess they're my friends. They have been by to see me. It doesn't really matter. Friends or not, they have no more need of me.

I find myself thinking about Odin Lowe, the assassin who first trained me. He never told me, but I think he's the one who killed the first Heero Yuy. OZ hired him. He trained me. And then I was sent to rain havoc on OZ. Fitting, I guess, but I don't have much appreciation for irony.

Did I care for Odin? Some part of me must have, although I can't remember feeling anything for him. I remember trying to save him after he was shot during that last job, though. And after he died I remember not caring whether or not I died, too.

But I've always felt that way, so maybe I never cared for him. Maybe it would have been different if he hadn't constantly reminded me that our father/son thing was all an act, part of our contract, he called it. I envy Trowa in one respect: he has Catherine, and she treats him like family even though they're probably not related. But then, maybe it's good I don't have a Catherine. Trowa wouldn't self-destruct that one time because in doing so he would have killed her, too. I'd have gone through with it anyway.

I continue to stare out the window and pretty soon I realize that I'm not looking at the snow, but at my own reflection. I used to do that a lot. Odin used to ask me what I was looking at, if it was the void of space, which took everything from me, or if it was my own image, a face without a name.

I don't know. I see the shadowed outline of a boy. His eyes are full of night. He's translucent; light passes through him, but it's not part of him. He's not even there. If I reach out to touch him, I'll touch cold glass.

I push back from the window and sit heavily on the bed. I'm only wearing this thin hospital gown, I'm getting cold, and this is getting stupid and it's not accomplishing anything.

I have to think about what to do next. I need a plan. I don't have Wing Zero to help me see the future any more. I'm no one's killer anymore, and I'm not anyone's savior, no matter what Relena thinks.

I'm nothing.

* * * *

“You're looking better,” an orderly tells me as I blink awake. It must be the next morning. Sunlight is slanting through the window, falling onto the bed, warming my toes. “It snowed again last night. You should be out and about soon.”

Oh, good.

“By the way,” she says as she sets my breakfast tray down on the table beside the bed, “what is your name? Your chart only says you're care of Vice Foreign Minister Darlian.”

“I don't have a name.” Breakfast does not look appealing, but I pick up the small carton of orange juice, anyway. The sooner I get my strength back, the sooner I'll be out here.

“That's impossible,” the orderly insists. “You must have a name. You were in the battle. Are you one of the Gundam pilots? Where are you from? How old are you?”

She's asking too many questions. I scrutinize her over the top of the juice carton. I've never seen her before. My gaze flicks to the bulging pocket of her scrubs.

Damn it, I don't want to kill again. Maybe I should just let her...

“Get out!”

We both look up, me and the fake orderly. Relena and Duo stand in the doorway and they look livid.

“Leave at once,” Relena says. “You are NOT welcome here.”

The woman lifts her chin. “The people have a right to know...”

“The people have a right to privacy! Leave these premises immediately and if I see you here again I'll have you arrested.”

“Still the Queen of the World, huh?”

Relena just brushes past her and comes to sit at the foot of the bed. Duo grabs the woman's arm and practically yanks her out the door. Her protests drift back to us, but pretty soon they fade.

Relena sighs. “Heero, I'm so sorry. She came around to the hotel earlier. We sent her away. I don't know how she knew anyone was here.”

“She must have seen you or some of the others coming here before.”

“Yes, that must be it. Anyway, I'm sorry.”

“What for?” I lean back, close my eyes.

“Well, you don't deserve to be bothered like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because--” She stammers. “Because... Heero, what are you trying to say? You're a person the same as any of us. You have rights.”

“I'm a tool, Relena.” I open my eyes. She stares back at me, dumbfounded. “I'm an instrument. I realized that last night. I'm no one. I have no secrets worth keeping.”

“But that's not true! Heero--” She slides closer. I just watch her. “That's not true,” she says in a low voice, forcefully. “You're somebody. You're important. I told you before that you gave me hope. You couldn't possibly do that if you weren't who you are.”

“Everyone tries to make me into what they need. I'm like clay. You can mold me into whatever shape you want. But I'm not needed anymore.”

“Well then,” she says softly, after a short beat, “maybe it's time for you to decide what _you_ want to be.”

No one has ever said that to me before.

She continues to look at me. Before she can say anything further, though, and before I can answer, Duo comes back, running.

“Coldhearted bitch,” he mutters, leaning against the doorframe and breathing hard. “Kept asking me _questions_. Of course I didn't say anything except ‘shut the hell up.' Figured out what she's after, though. She's looking for the pilot who blew up those Colonies, a.k.a. Quatre, but of course she doesn't know it's him. Right before I kicked her out the door she said she'd find out anyway. There are people who really want to know. Damn, I better go find Quatre and tell him. This could be serious. I'm going to have to wake him up. Heero, would you believe he was still asleep when we left? He who considers the day wasted if he fails to rise before sunup. He stayed up half the night, and do you know who he was with? Trowa! And do you know what they were doing? Making snowmen! Oh, and you'll never guess who Wufei's suddenly all google-eyed over. I'll tell you later when your system can handle it. It's the goddamn apocalypse. Happy New Years, Heero. Brought you a pack of cards. Was gonna teach you Solitaire, but...oh, well.” He pulls the deck out of his jacket pocket and lobs it at me. It falls between me and Relena. “Okay, here I go again.” He takes another gulp of air, then pivots and runs back down the hall.

In the wake of his exit we say nothing for a moment. Two thoughts vie for attention. The more important one surfaces first:

“It's not over.”

Relena looks at me, pale and alarmed. “It must be. Why should people stir up more trouble when there's no need?”

“Because that's how people _are_.” I lean against my pillows, more exhausted suddenly, than I've ever been. But I can't close my eyes. “People are weak. Even after they've thrown down their weapons they find ways to hurt one another. They want someone to blame, and like Duo said, all the leaders are dead. Except you and Zechs.”

“You think we might be in danger?”

“Not you, but Zechs, possibly. He was White Fang's figurehead. People know his face. We can't let them find out about Quatre.”

She flares up like a candle. I've never seen her so angry. Come to think of it, I've never really seen her angry. Proud and self-righteous, yes, but not angry. “‘We'?” she fumes. “As in you and the other pilots. How dare they drag you back into it! We're only alive because of your sacrifice. How _dare_ they try to blame you?”

“It's easy, Relena. They created us. They made us what we are. Now they can do with us as they please.”

“No! That's not true. You have rights. You're no different from them. You're _better_ , in fact. You deserve to live a normal life, free of guilt.”

“Can we? Relena...” I sigh. I feel as though I'm fumbling; I've never really known how to talk to her. She's always been sort of an ideal for me, an idea. Sometimes I think she can't decide if she wants me to be an idea or a real person. She treats me as both, but I've never really known how to treat her. “Relena, I don't have a name. I don't have anything to do after this. I have nowhere to go.”

“There are things you can do. You can try anything now.” She picks up the deck of cards, and shuffles them. She fans them in her hand with their faces toward me. “Pick a card,” she says, “look at it, then put it back in the deck.”

I have no idea what she's up to, but I take a card. “It's a black A, with a kind of clover thing.”

“Ace of clubs. Don't tell me what it is.” She waits until I've replaced the card, then tells me to take another one.

I do, glance at the face, then slip it back into the deck. I'm curious.

She shuffles the cards again, smiling at me all the while. Finally she fans the deck again, facing her this time, selects a card, and holds it up. “Is this your card?”

“No.”

“Didn't think so. What about this one?” She holds up another.

“No.”

She replaces it, pauses mysteriously for a moment, then selects a third card. “This is the right one, isn't it? Jack of hearts.”

“Yes, that's it.”

She grins triumphantly. “See, even you can be amazed by little things.”

Amazed? I wouldn't say that. I'm sure I could figure out her trick easily enough if I bothered to think about it. But I'm too tired. So I say, because she expects me to, “How did you do that?”

“I'll teach you.”

She hitches closer, which I don't mind, and begins to reshuffle the deck.

“Incidentally,” she says, without looking up, “you _do_ have a place to go. You can stay with me.” She puts the cards in her lap. “I have to be here for another few weeks, probably, because this is where all the world leaders have decided to convene. Something has to be done about the governance of L3-X18999--its economy is still very unstable--and something has to be done for the people whose homes and businesses were wrecked in the battle. Something has to be done for the soldiers, too. All of them. I'd like your input on that...if you don't mind, Heero.” She glances up at me. Her eyes change color with the lighting and with her moods. Right now, shadowed by her bangs, they have a slightly lavender tint. “I'm not asking anything of you, you understand. And this isn't charity. It's just that I _care_ about what happens to you. We all do. And...anyway, you _do_ have a place to go, if you want.”

It's me, the person, she addresses, but it's the idea she cares for. I don't think she realizes it. It makes me sad, but she can't really know me as a person because there's no person for her to know. There's that shadowy outline of a boy that I saw in the window last night, and nothing more.

I want to say yes, and I want to say it's because I care for her, but that wouldn't be true. I don't really know her, either. She's just an idea for me, too. A good idea.

“Yes,” I say. She looks up, wide-eyed. Then, because she's too full of hope I add, “I'll stay for the time being. Until I figure out what to do now that I'm obsolete.” The second thought I had before, the one that lost out to my concern for Quatre, resurfaces.

“Happy New Years, Relena.”

She gives a little, weary spurt of laughter. “Happy New Years, Heero. Whatever did you do with that medal of valor Marquis Weyridge gave you last New Years?”

“Gave it to the first person I passed on the street. It doesn't take valor to do the thing you've been trained all your life to do. The people who stood up to Marie Maia, the common people, they're the really valorous ones. I'm sorry I missed the fireworks, though. I fell asleep before midnight.”

“They were nice. There will be more, when this is finally really over.” She leans over and kisses my cheek. She smells fresh and clean, like flowers--I don't know their name. For a second I think we're between time again, between what we were and what we have to become. But then the cards spill onto the floor, and she pulls away.

I watched the top of her hair as she bends to gather them. For a little while, I think, this will be all right. But only a little while. You see, I've never done anything that wasn't somehow scripted. Odin Lowe or Dr. J or Wing Zero always told me what to do and I did it. All those leaders Duo rattled off before--I was always only an actor in their dramas. I don't know what will happen if I start to become real.

9.15.02


End file.
